


Bark at the Moon

by J_L_Nevole (Brambleshadow_of_WindClan)



Series: Moonlight [3]
Category: Def Leppard
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:20:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brambleshadow_of_WindClan/pseuds/J_L_Nevole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A wereling is a silverblood—a resister—whose humanity and compassion prevail in the ’wolf.”</p><p>Sav took that to mean that when the change was on him, he could hold on to the screaming human part of him that loathed what he’d become.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“C’mon, Joe!” Rick Savage, better known as Sav, yelled to his bandmate and alpha. “Run!”

Joe Elliott flashed him a dirty look but took off, trying to keep ahead of the rabid fangirls. The rest of Def Leppard—drummer Rick Allen and guitarists Phil Collen and Steve Clark—had decided to be smart and stay behind in the house they were renting. Sav and Joe had wanted to explore the town of Cripple Creek, Colorado, and naturally they were seen by a horde of female fans. Joe couldn’t really remember why they were near the gambling town in the first place. Well, they were in the state anyway because they were finishing up a tour in Colorado Springs and Denver—and then they’d been asked to perform at some huge local event in a town called Pueblo. Joe, in a moment of weakness (or so he later claimed) had accepted the invitation. At least the few weeks of waiting gave the band some downtime to relax and have fun. Besides, Colorado was a beautiful state—until you reached the eastern part of it and had left the Rocky Mountains behind. The eastern bit was semi-desert, full of cacti and sagebrush. As Steve had so bluntly put it: “You’ve seen one sagebrush, you’ve seen them all.” On the bright side, it was full of potential prey for two hungry werewolves.

Sav was finding out one of the perks of being a werewolf right now: their preternatural speed. He’d only been turned two days before, so he was still figuring out how to cope with his new life. Joe, on the other paw, had received the bite when he was very young, so he’d dealt with lycanthropy almost his whole life. He had an advantage that Sav could never have, since he was almost like a pureblood ’wolf.

The alpha and beta ’wolves made it for at least three blocks before Sav pulled Joe around the corner of a brick building. Joe found he was pressed up against the bassist, but he didn’t move until he was sure the crowd had thundered past. Even then, it was only to trace his fangs along his mate’s throat. Sav’s scent filled all of his senses; soon, he felt like they were the only two people alive.

Sav had gone completely still, his breathing ragged. “Joe . . .” The desire coming off him was growing stronger with each passing heartbeat. His eyes were slowly glowing electric-blue, a sign that his ’wolf was close to the surface. Joe wasn’t sure why Sav’s eyes were blue: most of the werewolves he’d met had yellow eyes when they turned. And Sav was a wereling, so he retained his human eyes in the lupine state. The electric-blue only showed when his ’wolf was fighting for control or at the beginning of the transformation.

The singer’s only response was a low growl. He nipped lightly at Sav’s neck, his fingers slipping under the bassist’s shirt to stroke the smooth skin.

Sav’s claws slid from their sheaths, digging through clothing into the hard muscles of Joe’s back. The human part of him was gone, the ’wolf completely in control. But he was a wereling, wasn’t he? So, why—

Joe suddenly stepped back, tension in every line of his body. His features were entirely human, so that alerted Sav right away to the fact something was wrong. The beta asked, “What is it?”

“They’re coming,” was Joe’s cryptic answer.

Sav rolled his eyes. “You know, you’re really killing the whole werewolf mystique, here. Who’s coming? Fans? Other ’wolves? Some other supernatural creature that I have no idea exists?”

“The fangirls. Now get your ’wolf under control, wereling, or I might have to do it for you.”

The bassist grinned. “I wonder how that’ll happen.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Joe growled. He tugged on Sav’s jacket, jerking his head in the direction of the street they were now on. “Run, and don’t stop until I say so.”

“Yes, alpha.” Sav was a little annoyed that the traditional answer slipped from his mouth but he bolted anyway. Joe was sprinting along beside him, his hand occasionally brushing his. The singer groaned, “Why did we have to become so famous?”

“Would you prefer we be back in Sheffield working in the spoon factory?” Sav shot back. “At least now we’re rock stars and get all our chicks for free.”

“I think you’ve been hanging around Jon too much. Watch it, Savage. You’re in _my_ pack, not his.”

“He’s not even lupine!”

“Doesn’t matter.”

They turned left, heading back the way they’d come on the street parallel to the one they’d been on moments before. Sav couldn’t hide the grin in his voice when he replied, “I love it when you get territorial on me.”

“Shut it, _beta_. Where the bloody hell did we park?”

Sav couldn’t have answered even if he’d wanted to: he’d poured on the speed, resisting the urge to run on all fours. Sure, that way was faster, but it just looked weird when he and Joe were in human form. When they turned werewolf, however, it was completely natural, since they resembled real wolves.

It wasn’t until they’d made it back to the rental that they allowed themselves to relax. Joe reached out for the steering wheel before he realized there was nothing in front of him but the glove compartment and dashboard. Sav, seated on Joe’s left, grinned at him and said, “We’re in America.” The bassist promptly set the car in reverse and backed out of their parking space, Joe scrabbling for a hold on anything when Sav turned the car sharply and sped out of Cripple Creek as if hellhounds were on their tail. Well, considering they could be viewed as hellhounds, it wasn’t a very fair analogy. Really, though, if Sav didn’t slow down on these windy mountain roads, Joe might very well end up with a broken neck—or at least whiplash.

After another narrow turn, Joe lost it. He snapped, “Blimey, Sav, are you _trying_ to kill us?! Who taught you how to drive?!”

“My mum.”

“That explains a lot.”

Sav’s only response was a snarl, and Joe smirked. He liked—okay, enjoyed—teasing Sav like this. Doing so reminded him that he didn’t have to be the alpha all the time and it was okay to have fun.

The car’s speed dropped from sixty mph to something like thirty miles per hour. Joe relaxed instantly, loosening his death grip on the sides of the leather seat. In doing so, he realized his claws had gouged holes in the leather.

 _Not one scratch,_ he remembered Phil saying. _Oops_.

Sav snickered. Clearly, the beta had heard him through their bond.

“Just shut up and drive.”

“Got it.”

*

Forty-five minutes later Sav pulled up at the house the band was renting. Joe’s ears were ringing from all the rock songs he’d heard on the radio during the drive, ranging from Heart to Poison to Journey, the Scorpions, Queen, and even his own band, Def Leppard. It was a little scary how “Talk Dirty to Me” was so much like “Pour Some Sugar on Me,” or maybe “Armageddon It.”

“I still think Poison and Bon Jovi copied us,” Joe grumbled as he exited the car.

“So do I,” Sav said, “but what can we do about that? ’Sides, Jon’s a friend.”

“Have I ever told you that I hate it when you’re right?”

“Only all the time. What are we doing standing around here for? It’s freezing!” Sav started walking toward the front door. The singer watched him for a moment, and then followed the beta, deciding it was best not to point out it was only sixty degrees Fahrenheit.

When they entered, they found the rest of the band waiting for them in the living room. That was rarely a good sign.

Phil was sitting on the couch, messing with something in his hands. Without looking up, he asked, “How’d it go?”

“Fine, until we were spotted by a whole crowd of teenage girls,” Joe replied.

Steve, over in the kitchen drinking a bottle of Jack, choked on the drink when he started laughing. Rick pounded him hard on the back until he recovered. The guitarist gasped out, “Thanks, mate.”

“No problem,” the drummer said.

A small smile curled at Phil’s mouth. “I can imagine how that went. Let me guess: You decided on Run Like Hell.”

“Uh-huh.”

Phil still didn’t look up from the Rubik’s cube as he asked casually, “So, how long have you and Sav been shagging each other?”

This time Steve’s drink spewed over the kitchen counter. Joe sensed Sav’s flash of panic through their empathy link. He sent the beta a silent command to calm down. The singer said, “What are you talking about?”

“We heard the two of you a couple nights ago at the hotel. Don’t even try denying it, Joe.”

Joe had to remind himself that Jon had wiped his bandmates’ minds so that they knew nothing of his and Sav’s lycanthropic conditions. Even so, he curled his hands into fist to try and hide his claws. When he unfurled them, they were normal—and thank goodness for that, because he did _not_ want to have to explain the whole lycanthropy thing to his bandmates for a second time. They hadn’t handled it very well on the first go-round. So he admitted, “We haven’t been for long. What’s it to you, Phil?”

“Just worried, that’s all.”

“And curious,” Steve called from the kitchen.

Sav smirked, coming up behind Joe and resting his head on the alpha’s shoulder. “You do realize how that ended for the cat, don’t you?”

“Oh, bugger off, Sav,” Phil grumbled.

“Gladly.” Sav tugged gently at Joe’s earlobe with his teeth; the alpha had to suppress a groan of desire. Why did Sav have to tease him like this? Well, Joe teased the beta all the time, so he figured this was some sort of payback. Then Sav was gone, while Steve, Phil, and Rick were staring at him with their mouths hanging open.

The ’wolf met their gazes innocently. “What?”

*

A gentle breeze swept across the countryside, rustling the leaves in the aspen trees. Silver moonlight illuminated two figures—one stocky and blonde, one lean and brunette—as they walked across the fields. The moon was no longer full, but Joe and Sav could still feel its influence. Sav was actually looking feverish. His skin was pale and clammy, and when Joe felt his forehead, it was very warm.

“Joe, why do I feel so ill? It’s not even the full moon,” Sav whined.

“Your body’s probably still fighting the ’wolf infection. It’s a common reaction in newbloods—even more common in werelings.”

“What _is_ a wereling?” Sav asked. “You’ve called me that before, but I don’t know what it means.”

“They’re very rare,” Joe informed him, quoting from some ancient text. “A wereling is a silverblood—a resister—whose humanity and compassion prevail in the ’wolf.”

Sav took that to mean that when the change was on him, he could hold on to the screaming human part of him that loathed what he’d become.

Joe wasn’t quite finished. “Pureblood hardliners see them as a threat to the pack, while others see werelings as the perfect synthesis between man and wolf. Personally, I don’t give a damn. All my ’wolf cares about is that you’re pack and my mate.”

“Right. Can we run through the whole mate thing again? I’m still not sure I follow.”

“It’s fairly self-explanatory, don’t you think?”

“Uh, well—”

“Oh, just shut up,” Joe growled. Then his mouth was covering Sav’s, and the beta’s mind went blank. His alpha filled his senses: touch, sight, smell, taste, even hearing (he could hear Joe’s heartbeat, his breathing).

Joe’s mouth left his to trace his jawline, then taste his neck. A small groan escaped Sav as he tilted his head back to grant the singer better access. The groan turned into a growl of need when Joe added his tongue to the mix, and his hips jerked forward reflexively.

“Please, Joe . . .” Was that his voice sounding so raw and desperate?

Suddenly Joe pulled away from him, leaving a hot, sweaty, sticky mess of a bassist behind. Glancing back over his shoulder at Sav, he began to run.

And as he ran, he changed.

The transformation was quicker than normal—or at least, it took Joe far less time to shift than Sav did—and in Joe’s place was a large wolf with greenish-yellow eyes and golden fur.

<C’mon, Sav,> Joe said using thought-speak. <Run with me.>

“Do I have to?”

<Don’t make me force you to shift. If I do, it’ll be extremely painful. Neither of us wants that.>

“Good point.”

Joe’s upper lip crinkled in a silent ’wolf laugh.

“Shut up.”

The ’wolf’s teeth were soon covered. When he was sure it was safe, Sav called on his ’wolf, now enjoying the heady mix of pleasure and pain that came with the transformation. He was sure that after shifting a few more times, caught in its addictive thrall, he would find it hard to remember his reasons for resistance.

 _Why fight?_ The alpha ’wolf said in his head. _You’re pack, my mate._

 _I know,_ Sav’s ’wolf growled. ’Course, with it being a submissive beta, he averted his eyes. In ’wolf form—or even human form—looking Joe in the eyes just felt wrong, as if he was challenging the alpha. And to be honest, he liked when Joe’s ’wolf crept inside him like that, owning him, forcing him to obey. Maybe it was the fact the pack mentality was stronger in the lupine state, but—

<Sav, you coming?>

<Wha—? Oh, yeah. Sorry.> The beta padded forward, surprised at how natural the four-legged gait was. This was only the second time he’d shifted since he’d been turned, so he had a lot to learn.

Joe took off at a lope and Sav, not wanting his alpha to leave him, followed. Then Joe was gone from sight, having veered off into the trees. Confused, Sav skidded to a halt, sniffing the air for his alpha’s scent.

The next thing he knew, something heavy had bowled him over. Sav yelped, startled, and tried to heave himself to his paws. Only then did he realize that Joe was the thing that had attacked him.

<What are you doing?> he snarled, hackles raised.

<Playing. What’s it look like?>

<Oh, well, in that case . . .> Sav pounced, teasingly, lightly. They rolled, jostled, nipped playfully at each other. The beta ’wolf was vaguely aware that Joe was herding him back to the house, but he didn’t care.

Next thing he knew, his human self had gained dominance over the ’wolf. Glancing over at Joe, Sav saw that the singer had shifted back as well.

“C’mon,” Joe said softly, resting a hand on Sav’s shoulder. “Let’s head inside. You need some sleep.”

Suddenly, the bassist was barely able to keep his eyes open. It took everything he had just to step inside the doorway. Of course, he collapsed right afterward, barely aware of the fact that Joe had caught him. He was already asleep—shifting at will took a lot out of him.

“Easy there,” Joe murmured, slinging Sav over his shoulder in the fireman’s carry. The bassist was surprisingly light, or maybe he just seemed that way because of the strength Joe’s ’wolf gave him. In any case, Sav was out cold when Joe carried him upstairs to their room, laid him on the bed. Considering they lost most of their clothes when they transformed, there wasn’t much to take off of the bassist. Both of them would have to find new shoes and clothes, but that was for the morning.

Without really thinking about it, Joe slid in next to Sav. He was finding it hard to believe how he could have resisted this at first, of giving in to his feelings and letting the ’wolf have its way. Holding Sav close felt so natural, and maybe it was the wildness in him that made him feel like this, but Joe didn’t mind, not really. He knew Sav was his anchor, but he was worried on what Sav’s would be. If he didn’t have control over his ’wolf on Change Nights—even if he was a wereling—he would probably try to escape and kill someone. Joe might not be able to stop him if that happened, although he was the pack leader.

In an effort to clear his mind, he breathed in Sav’s scent. His breathing gradually slowed, deepened . . . and it was as if someone had flipped a switch and turned the world off.

Apparently, even alphas needed sleep.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Partly inspired by DKD's story "Gravity" over on Rockfic. There's also smut. :) I'm thinking this is the last chapter in this story, but maybe I can do one more chapter? Let me know.

Sav woke with a start, wondering what had caused him to wake up in the first place. He was inside the house, in his room, in bed.

 _How did I get here?_ he wondered. The last thing he remembered was shifting back from the ’wolf, and Joe . . .

Where was Joe, anyway?

Sav turned over, only to find the singer was _right in his face_.

“Yaahh!” he yelped, scrabbling backwards. His efforts just caused him to land unceremoniously on the floor, taking several layers of sheets with him. (Why they were staying in Vail during the autumn season—hence the layers of sheets—he wasn’t entirely sure, nor could he remember who had suggested the ski resort town in the first place.) The resulting crash had Joe’s eyes snapping open, his facial features and fingernails wolfed out. Joe leaned over the side of the bed, saw Sav, and his features returned to normal.

“Blimey, Sav, were you scared that badly?”

Sav just glared at him, eyes flashing bright green. He was on his feet in an instant, crawling back into bed. “Maybe. What time is it, anyway?”

Joe looked at the glowing red numbers on the digital alarm clock and groaned. “The hour of the wolf.”

“Translation?”

“Three in the morning.”

“Oh, great. Well, I guess since both of us are awake, there’s no use in going back to sleep.”

“And what do you suggest we do, huh?”

Sav just smirked and gave him the once-over, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Is that all you ever think about?”

“No. Get your mind out of the gutter, Elliott.”

“It’s a bit late for that.” A corner of Joe’s mouth quirked upward. “My mind’s always in the gutter.”

“Somehow, I’m not surprised.” Sav started to say something else, but the hungry look in Joe’s eyes stopped him. “Uh, Joe?”

That was all he could say before the singer was kissing him—with tongue. Joe’s weight pressed him down on the mattress, and Sav, submissive beta that he was, went with the gentle pressure, his hands trailing down Joe’s sides, then resting on his back, claws unsheathed.

Joe pulled back from the kiss enough for Sav to see that his alpha’s eyes were phosphorescent-blue. He couldn’t tell if any other features were wolfing out, because Joe was nuzzling at his neck even while those skilled hands of his were exploring the bassist’s lean frame. Then Joe’s head went lower, lower . . .

 _Ohmigod_! Sav arched upward, a low, needy whine spilling from his throat.

Joe’s now-blue eyes, flickering from the color of his ’wolf to their natural green, glanced upwards from the apex of Sav’s thighs. “You like that, huh?” he rasped, voice low and ragged.

Did he? Yeah, if it was a girl, but . . . With Joe, it was different. Sav’s ’wolf knew the singer as pack, belonging, mate, Alpha while the human half of him wasn’t sure how to define their relationship. Not that he should be thinking about this now_he’d just earn a headache. So Sav licked his lips and said the first word that came to mind: “Yeah.”

Then Joe was rising above him, his face inches away from Sav’s. “I don’t want to do this to you, Sav, I want to do it with you.” Wasn’t the bassist the one who had suggested this anyway?

The beta’s only response was a low growl right before he flipped their positions. Now Joe was the one underneath him, green eyes grazed with lust, and Sav’s own eyes were completely lupine.

Time dissolved into sensations: skin on skin; heavy breathing; the mingled smells of sweat, desire, and ’wolf as both their lupines came out to play. Sav, when they’d switched positions, yelped in surprise at one point. The yelp quickly became an actual howl, cut off when Joe slapped his hand over the bassist’s mouth. Both werewolves froze, listening hard to see if any of their bandmates had woken up. Sure, the Terror Twins were in their own room downstairs and Rick was a few doors down across the hall, but it was unknown what stage of sleep they were in: light, REM, or deep. If the guys were in the easily-awakened stage, Joe and Sav were dead meat.

“I think we’re safe,” Joe whispered after the silence had stretched into a minute.

Sav responded by flicking out his tongue to taste the skin on Joe’s palm. Of course, the singer, startled, snatched his hand back.

“What’d ya do that for?”

The grin Sav gave Joe rivaled that of the Cheshire cat. “Couldn’t resist.” His canines itched as they lengthened, sharpened. Wiry, coarse hairs pushed against Sav’s skin as Joe’s ’wolf took over. Claws dug into him, drew blood, but Sav barely noticed: the darkness in him was answering the call of Joe’s sweat, his saliva, his hands on his body.

Footsteps sounded outside in the hallway, stopping just outside the door. Both newblood and alpha dove off the bed and slunk into shadowy corners. Sav’s darker pelt would help him hide; Joe’s lighter coat gave him a disadvantage. And if the door opened, how would they explain in the morning that there were two wolves in their room while they had apparently vanished?

Sav swore inside his head, muscles tense, ready to pounce on whoever opened the door.

<Easy, Sav,> Joe said, but his voice was tense.

The bassist’s hackles rose and he bared his fangs. He knew Joe was on the opposite side of the room and could probably stop him if he tried anything. So he forced himself to stay still.

Seconds slowly ticked by. The footsteps started up again, heading toward the bathroom. Neither werewolf relaxed until the door to Rick’s bedroom clicked shut. Then they both shifted back, Sav’s skin itching like crazy as the hairs in his pelt burrowed back under. His pelvis and spine cracked like a gunshot as they clicked into an upright position. When he was completely in human form, Sav shuddered. Demorphing always creeped him out, no matter how many times he did it. The ’wolf change was a whole other story.

Joe climbed back into bed; Sav instantly joined him without the alpha saying a word. The mood from earlier was broken, and right now, Sav just wanted to sleep. He wasn’t sure if Joe would let him, though: the singer was so incredibly dominant that Sav couldn’t fight him. Even when he’d been human and Joe was as human as he could ever be there was no denying the singer. Now that their more bestial natures were involved, though . . .

He was Joe’s slave.

And he was so messed up, because he wouldn’t want it any other way.

It wasn’t like Sav was never dominant. Whenever they were onstage playing their songs and he was surrounded by weak prey hunt kill humans, it felt good, natural even, that their eyes were on both him and Joe. And that was definitely his wolf talking, but Sav didn’t care. He didn’t like struggling to contain his ’wolf side, but there were times he wondered how he’d stood being human for so long when he now had all this power. The bassist could understand how Joe felt during their concerts, when he was struggling to keep control on Change Nights—he’d even witnessed it firsthand.

Speaking of Change Nights, how would he keep control, even if he was a wereling? Sav knew he was Joe’s anchor, but . . .

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Joe grumbled. “Your mind’s running so fast it’s giving me a headache—and ’wolves don’t even get headaches! Or any other illness, come to think of it, unless it’s wolfsbane poisoning.”

“Wolfsbane? I thought it was silver.”

“Nope. We spread that around ourselves to make humans think reaching for the shotgun was a waste of time. Hunters are the only ones who know about wolfsbane.”

“Hunters?”

Joe growled into his pillow. “I’ll tell you in the morning. Now shut up and let me sleep.”

There was silence for a few seconds. Then: “Joe?”

“Oh, what have I ever done to you?” Joe whined to nobody in particular. “WHAT?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“So you decide to keep me up? Why are you this bloody annoying all of a sudden?”

“Like I told you: I can’t sleep. Besides, it is morning, so maybe you can tell me about the hunters.”

“No. You’re only just adjusting to being lupine. ’Course, the fact we’re in a highly successful rock band doesn’t help much.”

“But—”

Joe snarled and rolled over so he was above Sav, bared fangs centimeters away from the newblood’s throat. “I’m not letting anyone near you, or close enough to hurt you. As far as hunters are concerned, they suspect I’m the only ’wolf in the band. Get it?”

Sav nodded, the intensity in Joe’s voice, expression, and eyes scaring him a little. “Got it.”

“Good. Since you’re obviously not going to let me sleep—for the second time tonight, I might add—now what?”

Sav smirked. _“Pour some sugar on me—ooh, in the name of love. Pour some sugar on me—c’mon, fire me up. Pour your sugar on me—ooh, I can’t get enough,” he sang softly. “I’m hot, sticky sweet, from my head to my feet, yeah.”_

Joe glared. “You did not just quote one of our own songs back at me.”

“I think I just did.”

“If you say anything else—”

“Like what?” Sav’s smirk had morphed into a wicked grin. “ _Do you take sugar, one lump or two? Take a bottle, shake it up—_ ”

The singer growled a “shut up” right before his mouth covered Sav’s. Just like that, the bassist’s human mind was gone even as his body was going up in flames. As far as being silenced went, this was probably the best way.

His wolf agreed, lost in the contentment of being warm, safe, pack, mate. And Sav found there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Joe ran his tongue along the taught skin from Sav’s navel to his sternum, enjoying the mewls the beta was making. It wasn’t often they had a chance to do this, so he relished every second.

“God, Joe,” Sav hissed, his claws raking across the singer’s back. “You’re a tease, you know that?”

Joe could feel himself starting to shift, but he held it back. His lips curved into a smile against Sav’s burning skin, heated from both arousal and the fact a werewolf’s body temperature was higher than a human’s. One of his hands brushed against the flat nipples, and Sav groaned.

“What do you want, Sav?” Joe rasped. His voice dropped into a low, edgy growl as he ordered, “Tell me what you want.” All the while, the singer was licking and nuzzling his way up Sav’s body, lingering at the bassist’s neck, tasting the underline of Sav’s jaw.

“More,” Sav gasped out. His breathing was coming in pants, and he writhed underneath Joe’s muscled, hard form. The beta’s hips jerked upward, met Joe’s, and the alpha drew in a sharp intake of breath.

_Wrong, wrong, wrong!_ His mind screamed even as his ’wolf howled for more, urged the human half of him to take what was his.

Sav’s hot, hard length brushed against him again. Before Joe could stop himself, his canines twisted into fangs and sank deep into the hollow where Sav’s neck met shoulder. The bassist cried out, bucking and twisting, and each movement sent licks of flame curling around Joe’s abdomen, the fire burning hot, then hotter.

Joe lifted his head from Sav’s neck, swept his tongue across the pinpricks. The ’wolf in him loved seeing Sav like this, so wanton and needy. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be inside his beta—and that scared him.

A shudder raced through Sav’s body, and then Joe was looking up into the other ’wolf’s face.

“Sav, what are you—”

The newblood smirked at him before ducking his head, nuzzling into the musky heat between Joe’s legs. A muttered curse slipped out and Joe dug his fingers into the muscles of Sav’s shoulder blades.

A _huh_ was Sav’s only response. “Yea, Joe?”

“I like that.” Was that really his voice? It couldn’t be: he normally didn’t sound like a porn star. Well, “Action! Not Words” could be about a film . . .

_Oh, can it, Joe!_

He felt Sav’s lips curl into a smile, as if he knew what Joe was thinking. Then again, he probably did. In any case, the flash of irritation didn’t matter for long: Sav was busy putting his mouth and fingers to good use. For once, Joe stopped fighting his ’wolf and gave in to the sensations flooding him. Once he did, it felt as if he were being burned alive. His green eyes were ’wolf-blue, and when Sav lifted his head, Joe could see the glow of the bassist’s own lupine.

“Jesus, Sav.”

“Funny, I didn’t know lycans believed in Him.”

The singer snarled and scissored his legs, flipping the two of them over so he was on top again. “I don’t know about other ’wolves, but I do.” His mouth was covering Sav’s then, even as his body pressed fully against that of the bassist.

“Give it to me,” Sav gasped out when the need for oxygen forced the two to separate.

“Not yet.” Joe’s fingers had found a sensitive spot and were gently applying pressure, teasing, testing to see just how far he could push the other ’wolf. He was so lost in his explorations that he didn’t hear the faint scrape of wood against carpet that signaled the door was opening. Nor did he scent the intruders. It wasn’t until Sav went completely still under him that he realized they had company.

Joe knew who it was even before he’d twisted his head around, just from the way Sav’s eyes widened and his pulse quickened—and not in the way he wanted it to quicken.

“Do you two have a death wish or something?” he growled at the Terror Twins, who were standing shell-shocked. Steve actually still looked half-asleep, even if he was using Phil to support himself and horrified realization was written all over his face. 

“Uh, well . . . um . . . we were . . .” Phil stammered.

Joe’s low growl cut him off. “Seen enough, have you?”

“I think I’m dreaming,” the former Girl guitarist said faintly. “Somebody pinch me.”

Steve obliged.

“Ow!”

“Well, you’re not dreaming,” Steve slurred, voice thick with sleep.

Phil promptly flipped his fellow Terror Twin off.

If ever there was a time when Joe loved being an alpha werewolf, now was it. “Yes, you are,” he murmured in the tone of voice that had Sav’s lupine baring its throat and belly. “You’re going back downstairs to your room and forgetting you saw anything.” The singer’s inner beast stretched out toward the Terror Twins, much like it had with Sav four nights ago, imposing its will on Phil and Steve. As if in a daze, the two left the room, the door swinging shut behind them of its own accord.

Joe looked back to Sav, only to find the bassist was smirking slightly.

“What?”

Now the bassist was shaking with silent laughter. “The looks on their faces, that’s all. Too bad we couldn’t take a picture.”

Whoever said laughter was contagious sure was right: Joe was soon chuckling as well. “Yeah, too bad. Now, where were we?”

Soon, for both werewolves, the rest of the band was far away.

On another planet, even.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defense, for the first half of this chapter . . . *Gibbs-slaps JoeMuse* He made me do it!

When Joe next opened his eyes, golden sunlight dappled the walls and carpet. He groaned and rolled over to find another warm body was occupying his bed. Sav was still asleep, one arm lying across his eyes, the other draped over his chest. For a few seconds, Joe was mesmerized by the way the bassist’s rib cage rose and fell from his deep breathing. Then his pale-green eyes traveled to Sav’s Adam’s apple and carotid artery. Saliva pooled in his mouth as he propped himself up on one elbow to give himself a better view. He could hear Sav’s heartbeat, smell the delicious copper-scented blood flowing beneath the skin . . .

Joe pulled back as if he’d been burned. He still found it hard sometimes to control the ’wolf bloodlust even after years of being a lycanthrope. When he was younger he’d run with a pack of purebloods that had taught him how to control his wolf side—but he, like Sav, had been bitten. Teaching a ’wolf who was made and not born took time—and right now, that wasn’t a luxury Sav had. Joe wasn’t even sure how he would be able to mentor the beta when their bandmates were in the same house with them nearly twenty-four/seven.

Speaking of Sav . . .

Images of last night ran through his mind, and Joe groaned. He needed a cold shower, like, _right now_.

*

Okay, so the water wasn’t freezing cold, but the heat felt wonderful. Def Leppard’s lead vocalist gradually became aware he was humming the intro to a Scorpions single, but he didn’t care. Then the vocals kicked in: _“It’s early morning, the sun comes out. Last night was shaking and pretty loud. My cat is purring, it scratches my skin. So what is wrong with another sin? The bitch is hungry, she needs to tell, so give her inches and feed her well. More days to come, new places to go. I’ve got to leave, it’s time for a show._

_“Here I am, rock you like a hurricane. Here I am, rock you like a hurricane.”_

Joe sensed Sav stirring through their pack-bond but didn’t think much of it. By now he was rinsing the lathered shampoo out of his soaking hair. When he was sure the shampoo was completely out, he reached for the bottle of conditioner and set about with the next step of bodily hygiene. He was still singing “Rock You Like a Hurricane” under his breath, though he was fairly certain Sav was the only one able to hear him: the bathroom he was currently using was just off their room.

_“My body is burning, it starts to shout. Desire’s coming, it breaks out loud. Lust is in cages ’til storm breaks loose. Just have to make it with someone I choose.”_

Sav had silently entered the loo and was just leaning against the wall, but since Joe had his eyes closed and he still smelled like the bassist, he didn’t even notice.

_“The night is calling, I have to go. The wolf is hungry, he runs the show. He’s licking his lips, he’s ready to win. On the hunt tonight for love at first sting._

_“Here I am, rock you like a hurricane. Here I am, rock you like a hurricane. Are you ready, ready, ready, ready? Here I am, rock you like a hurricane. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon! Here I am, rock you like a hurricane. Rock you like a hurricane!”_

Then it was on to the guitar solo . . . and body wash.

Sav, watching Joe’s blurred outline in the shower, grinned and shook his head. There was so much blackmail material here it wasn’t even funny. He’d probably be arrested for voyeurism later, but he didn’t care. The bassist’s eyes glowed turquoise as his enhanced vision took over, washing everything in infrared. Yeah, he was definitely enjoying the view.

_“It’s early morning, the sun comes out,”_ Joe sang softly. _“Last night was shaking and pretty loud. My cat is purring, it scratched my skin. So what is wrong with another sin?_

_“The night is calling, I have to go. The wolf is hungry, he runs the show. He’s lickin’ his lips, he’s ready to win. On the hunt tonight for love at first sting._

_“Here I am, rock you like a hurricane. Are you ready, ready, ready? Here I am, rock you like a hurricane. Here I am, rock you like a hurricane. Well, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on. Here I am, rock you like a hurricane. Here I am!”_

The water ran for a few more seconds, then shut off. Sav reached for one of the towels, ready to hand it to Joe when he slid open the glass door.

“Thanks,” Joe said automatically as he accepted the towel. Then he realized exactly how the towel had come to be in his hands and his gaze found Sav. His cheeks flushed crimson. “How much of that did you hear?”

Sav’s grin was deliberately wicked. “All of it. I didn’t mind the view either. And I must say”—here, he broke into song—“last night was shaking and pretty loud. My cat is purring, it scratched my skin. So what is wrong with another sin?”

Joe groaned. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Never.”

*

Minutes later, both lupines were dressed for the day in jeans and T-shirts and were heading downstairs. When they reached the kitchen, the Terror Twins and Thunder God were already at the table wolfing down food (no pun intended). Sav and Joe hesitated before stepping over the threshold into the room, Sav deferring to his lower rank in the pack by staying just behind the singer.

“How’d you sleep, Phil?” Joe asked casually, sitting down beside the guitarist. Sav took a seat right next to Steve, and the Terror Twins were instantly boxed in. The subliminal message was clear: Try to run, and we _will_ stop you.

“Fine,” Phil replied tersely, his body tensing. Both werewolves knew he was lying: his heartbeat stuttered over that one word.

Joe leaned in closer. “You’re sure?”

“I didn’t,” Steve said bluntly before Phil could answer. “We kept hearing noises.”

“Noises,” Sav repeated, trying hard not to look at Joe.

“Noises?” Rick asked, bewildered, as he looked up from his breakfast.

“Noises,” Steve confirmed. “Phil here wanted to go investigate”—he ignored the dirty look the smaller guitarist flashed at him—“so he dragged me out of bed—thanks for interrupting a perfectly good dream, by the way—”

“You’re welcome.”

“—and when we went upstairs to look . . . well, I’m now scarred for life.”

The other three Lepps just stared at him for a moment. Joe broke the silence by saying, “I think that’s the most we’ve ever heard you say at one time, Steve.”

“Oh, shut up,” Steve grumbled, starting to push his chair back from the table. His escape route was blocked by Sav’s arm, which had shot out to grasp the back of Steve’s chair. Clark looked at the bassist in confusion, who smiled slightly and shook his head. “Nuh-uh. We’re not done yet.” Was he imagining it, or were Sav’s canines longer than normal? Steve blinked, and the illusion was gone.

“We’re not?” Phil questioned.

The expression on Joe’s face was suddenly feral; and Phil, Steve, and Rick were instantly uneasy. Joe backed up Sav, saying, “We’re not. Now, what _kind_ of noises did you hear, eh?”

“Since when are you Canadian, Joe?” Sav cracked.

The alpha werewolf’s response was a raised, stiff middle finger. “Shut it, Sav.”

A corner of Sav’s mouth quirked upward in a half-smile. “You really think that’s going to work?”

Joe’s enhanced vision took over for a millisecond as he stared the bassist down; the beta turned his head away. Sav mumbled, “I guess it will.”

“Why do you want to know what kind of noises we heard?” Phil asked Joe. “It doesn’t really matter, does it, since Steve and I accidentally walked in on you shagging Sav.”

Steve shuddered. “Thanks for reminding me, Phil. Too bad it wasn’t a dream.”

" _You’re_ the one who pinched _me_!”

“All I said was _you_ weren’t dreamin’. I never said anythin’ ’bout me. ’Sides, if I recall right, I was still half asleep.”

“Lucky you,” Phil muttered.

“Nah, ’twas Sav and Joe who got lucky.”

“True.”

Rick almost choked on a piece of toast. “Wait, let me get this straight: You two”—he pointed at the Terror Twins—“heard weird noises, went to check it out, and walked in on those two”—he pointed at Sav and Joe—“doing the deed?”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” Phil answered.

Rick suddenly looked thoughtful. “Come to think of it, I think I _did_ hear a howl.”

The two lupines in the band exchanged nervous glances. Joe said, “A howl?”

“Yeah, sounded like a wolf.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Sav interjected sarcastically, “but we’re in the Colorado Rockies. There’s bound to be wolves.”

“Wolves have been extinct in Colorado for quite some time, actually,” Steve corrected. When his bandmates stared at him, he shrugged. “I like canines, so what? Shoot me.”

“Seriously?”

Steve smacked Phil upside the head. “’Course not, you idiot!”

“So what was it, then?” Rick mused.

Phil shrugged. “You said it sounded like a wolf . . . so maybe it was a werewolf.”

Panic flashed across Joe’s empathy link. In the next second, the chair Sav had formerly occupied was empty and in danger of falling over. Joe was soon on his heels. He caught up with Sav at the top of the stairs, reached out to touch his shoulder.

The beta whirled around, eyes glowing. “They know,” he hissed.

“No, they don’t,” Joe reassured him. “Phil was joking; besides, Jon wiped their memories. _They don’t know about us,_ Sav. They _can’t_.” The singer hand both arms on either side of the bassist boxing him in, having backed him up against the wall. Joe’s eyes glowed turquoise, watching Sav’s face intently. “Relax, Sav. Listen to me: _They. Don’t. Know_.”

A rattling breath was Sav’s only response. “You’re sure?”

There was a split-second hesitation before Joe replied with “yes.” It wasn’t long at all, but it was enough for Sav’s temper to flare. He growled angrily; bared his fangs; and lunged forward, aiming for Joe’s throat.

Joe reacted instantly, stepping back and to the side. His hand shot out, grabbed Sav by the collar of his T-shirt. The alpha easily lifted the beta as if he weighed nothing at all, snarling his fury at the inferior ’wolf’s attack. Challenging an alpha was just _not_ done. In larger packs, a challenge was a fight to the death. That aside, Sav was his _mate_ , and this just felt _wrong_. But with both their wolves in control, there was no way Joe was allowing this to go unpunished. The alpha ’wolf slammed the beta down on the floor, snarled his victory.

Sav, facial features wolfed out, snarled and bucked, desperately trying to get his feet under him. “Let me up, Joe!”

Joe put his face close to Sav’s, eyes glowing dangerously, fangs jutting out, claws pricking the bassist’s skin. “No.”

“The others probably heard us. Do you _want_ them coming up here? I sure don’t.” Sav was starting to change back from the partial shift; gradually Joe loosened his hold on the bassist’s shirt. The singer’s ’wolf retreated back into the shadows, leaving his features wholly human—or as human as he ever was, anyway.

“Sorry, Sav, but I had to.”

The bassist snorted. “Your ’wolf is one _scary_ mother—”

“Don’t even go there. And watch what you call my ’wolf.”

Sav smirked. “What was that you were singing earlier? Oh, yeah: _The wolf is hungry, he runs the show. He’s licking his lips, he’s ready to win. On the hunt tonight for love at first sting._

_“Here I am, rock you like a—”_

“Sav?” Joe interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”


End file.
